Same Love

Up until high school I never thought of same sex relationships. It wasn't something that I was exposed to. Once high school hit it came close to home as my older sister started to date her first real girlfriend. For me, I was disgusted and appalled at the behavior that the two girls exuded. Today I think a little differently. Though my sister and that girl have had several challenges, break ups, and make ups, Today they are some of the happiest people I know. My sister's girlfriend has not only become a sister and a role model to me, but has become a genuine part of our family. My family wouldn't be the same without my two favorite lesbians.

Today at the gym I heard Same Love for the very first time. I was blown away by the power the song placed on me. I had to share it.

 I can't wait to be apart of this lovely couples life together, and watch them walk down the aisle toward one another. I am so happy to be apart of the family and life that they have created together, and am eternally grateful that they love each other and me too.

Words

When I write,
poetry is the only thing
that makes sense anymore

I don't do sentences or grammar
or all the junkie rules
I spell shit wrong and make
up my own language like it's
plastered to my face to make me look
pretty, and desirable and sexy.

My language is my skanky dress
my full mouthed thoughts
and thunderous laugh

My words are not special
and really are only there for me
They are not for you, or for the healthy,
grateful, loving people that surround me

They are selfishly for my and my
energy lacking day
My tea days
and my coffee smelling days

Coffee is disgusting. Period.
(Sentence)

Man periods are terrible,
they make me hurt
like sticks and stones
breaking your bones

But words will never hurt you,
so please don't be offended
by my thoughts
by my words that leap from pages
full of enthusiasm but lacking grace

Please remember that I am human,
and that I think
like the world is ending,
and that I am lacking.

Mango City

It's hard to believe that two years ago I was in Mexico basking in the fresh sun and learning how to love children. One of the things I remember most about Mexico are the markets. Down the street from my humble abode was one of the best markets I have ever been to in Latin America. It wasn't to big, it wasn't to small, and the large pieces of meet hanging from giant silver hooks didn't overpower my wanting to be there.

Trips to the market for fruit was a biweekly event for my friends and I in Mexico. One of our favorite things to buy at the market was mangos. The mangos in Mexico were TO DIE FOR!! Every morning after our early morning zumba class we would all make our way to the long wooden kitchen table that stretched across the middle of Miss. Teres kitchen. I would cut my mango in half a third of the way in, down the middle and out again. After I tore out the seed I would then cut three horizontal lines and three vertical lines spread evenly throughout the mango. My skinny fingers would then arch the mango up and create a city of square mangos to pop to life. My teeth would graze over each square eagerly until they hit skin. I repeated this daily for four months.

Last week I bought a mango that looked like the delicious mangos in Mexico. It was not the same, but close.